


Under the Right Circumstances

by cecilegrey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ambiguity, Canon Era, Gen, Season/Series 05, Suspense, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilegrey/pseuds/cecilegrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred never wanted to get caught up in Emrys' web of lies, and Emrys wasn't brave enough to stand with Mordred's honesty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Right Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime after 5.07. Unbeta'd. I have to thank jelazakazone, because without her squee, I probably wouldn't have bothered to sit down and feed this plot bunny. <3

When Mordred found Emrys dragging an unconscious Queen through the corridor, he wasn't sure what to do next.

During his time in Camelot, he had noticed that Emrys was involved in more than servant's work: he assisted the physician, offered Arthur guidance, and what's more, he sneaked around behind everyone's backs. The other knights didn't read into Emrys' odd disappearances. Maybe Mordred noticed it because he expected it, because all the times he'd met Emrys in the past, Emrys had been acting in secret, with a patchwork of lies keeping Arthur from knowing the whole truth. Whatever the case, he was inclined to trust that Emrys indeed acted in Arthur's best interest, but Mordred still had no intention of getting caught up in the web of lies. He kept his distance.

But now his resolve was tested. Emrys claimed to have knocked the Queen unconscious because she'd been enchanted by Morgana. From this, Mordred could not walk away.

"Why don't you tell Arthur?" he whispered.

Emrys maneuvered the Queen in his arms. "Arthur can't know. He doesn't know how to handle these things. Help me move her."

Mordred did help, though he bristled at Emrys taking for granted that Mordred would assist him. Emrys' eyes flashed gold and a door opened, allowing them to slip inside just as a pair of guards came around the corner.

"Arthur has half castle looking for her," Mordred said. They placed her on the bed, and Mordred quickly pulled the hem of her dress to cover her ankles. "He'll ring the warning bells if she's gone much longer."

Emrys was not paying much attention. He lit the candles on the bedside with a quick _forbærnan_ , revealing the dusty surfaces of the unused room, and carefully lifted Guinevere's shoulder to investigate the back of her neck.

"There's no Fomorroh. I thought for sure..." he said, his brow creased. "What else could Morgana have used to enchant her?"

He seemed to be talking to himself, though Mordred did share some knowledge on the subject. Fomorrah were used in mind control, but enchanted jewelry were more common. The Queen, however, wore nothing like that; she was in a simple dress (for royalty) and a black cloak.

Mordred looked at the door, distracted by distant shouts and footsteps. He recalled Arthur saying, not so long ago, how _Merlin_ could never be capable of any nefarious scheming. Mordred knew that if the guards happened upon them now, in this compromising position, it was Mordred that would be held suspect. He looked back at the Queen.

A thought materialized.

"Emrys," he began. Even though Emrys still looked distracted, he went on. "Why would Morgana take Guinevere all the way out to the Dark Tower, if the purpose was to enchant her? She could have done that in the forest."

Finally, Emrys turned all his attention on him.

"What are you saying?"

"Perhaps Morgana did not twist Guinevere's mind with magic, but by other means."

"No," Emrys said, jerking his head in refusal. "No, it has to be magic. Gwen would never try to kill Arthur unless she was enchanted."

Mordred spoke no more, because the conviction in Emrys' voice said he would not be swayed. But once the idea took shape, he felt the tendrils of its truth. The mind was something Mordred's magic had always been drawn to. He'd used telepathy to communicate among the Druids since he was a small boy. It had always come naturally.

Although he'd only spent a short time with Morgana up in Ismere, it was enough to know that she was not the same Morgana he'd known before. Her kind heart was gone. Somewhere along the line, she'd come unhinged, and had turned ruthlessly vengeful. If she had tried enchantments that had previously failed, it did not surprise him that she would try something more drastic, like twisting the Queen's mind with dark games while shut away in a tower, perhaps using magic to heighten the terror and stretch the days to feel like weeks, until eventually Guinevere was confused enough to trust Morgana and Morgana alone.

Within Guinevere's mind was a wound that could not be seen. If that wound was not healed, Arthur could pay the ultimate price.

For the first time since stumbling across this mess, Mordred was not regretting his role as Emrys' accomplice. He now had a strong theory as to the nature of the Queen's illness, and knew he could help. It was an opportunity too great to miss.

He stopped listening to Emrys' babbling, which really could be as annoying as Arthur asserted, and settled himself at the dusty bedside. He placed an unsteady hand on her still, cool forehead.

"Ágíeman módearfoþ ond ácumendlicnes éadnes."

Emrys went silent at once. He would be staring now, confused by the sudden presence of a spell Mordred had not prepared him for. Behind him, Mordred noticed when the room's door burst open, but it was more important that he keep all his focus on the task at hand. He raised his voice and ground out the words again.

"Ágíeman módearfoþ ond ácumendlicnes éadnes!"

Magic flowed through his hands, bright and strong, as if overjoyed to have a direction to finally move in, after so long being forced to sleep. It gradually rose out of him, like a yawn, like oxygen to the mind, until it hit that euphoric crest that preceded its completion, and stopped, leaving him feeling like he'd taken the deepest of breaths. When he came down from his high, he was aware there was a sword under his chin.

"Step away from her," Arthur said, and Mordred did exactly that. The cold blade followed. "What have you done to her?"

Magic's euphoria was driven away by the king's fury. Mordred's mouth went dry. Arthur redirected his words without redirecting his eyes.

"Merlin, what has he done to her?"

"He... he did magic," Emrys spoke with disbelief. His disbelief gave way to fear when he saw the position Arthur and Mordred were standing in. "But wait, Arthur, he--"

"I did magic to heal her, Sire," Mordred said in a low, steady voice. "I would use it for no other purpose than--"

"Heal her?" Arthur spat. His grip tightened. "The Queen was hurt and you did not see fit to inform me or the Court Physician?"

The sword's blade had warmed to his skin, but the effect was still freezing as it scraped Mordred's stubble. He found himself mute, reluctant to speak when he was not sure the right words to say, and cursing the risk he'd taken. He should have left Emrys to manage alone, as he'd always done.

"Arthur," came a quiet voice.

Everyone turned to Guinevere, who blinked up at them and held her head where Mordred had.

"He speaks the truth," she said, and for a moment, the only sound was the rustling of the sheets as she sat up. "He healed me. He healed me in a way Gaius couldn't... couldn't possibly have..."

Arthur immediately took a place at her side. A pair of knights assumed his previous position, blocking Mordred's view of the door. Emrys, too, went to the Queen and studied her face. There were bags under her eyes, but she looked more like herself than she had in days, in a way Mordred had not realized until now. Her eyes were soft again.

"What happened, Guinevere?" Arthur asked. His confusion at the entire situation was finally laid bare. "How were you hurt?"

She sniffed and shook her head. Her gaze grew distant. "I wasn't hurt, I was deranged. Ever since the tower... I thought for sure Morgana cared about me more than anyone, that she was the only one I could trust. How could I have been so blind?" She unclasped the cloak that was constricting her neck, and took a deep breath. "It was me, Arthur. I fed you the poison."

She was surely crying, though the dim candlelight hid her tears.

"It's not your fault," Emrys told her. He glanced at Mordred. It was a scene similar to that of a few nights past, after the poisoning, except with Guinevere on the bed instead of Arthur. A handful of knights and guards stood along the walls, quiet and respectful. Then, it was the wrongly accused Emrys who had been escorted to the dungeon. Now it would surely be Mordred.

Arthur noticed Emrys' gaze and followed it, as did Guinevere.

"He helped me," she insisted. Then she held up her hand between Emrys and Arthur's shoulders, keeping it raised until Mordred tentatively reached out, and nobody stopped him. She clasped his fingers and lowered her broken smile to his knuckles. "Thank you."

Mordred nodded. "My queen."

She shared some more of her story, or what she remembered of it. Arthur's golden head bowed as he listened and Mordred remained awkwardly standing, albeit more at ease without deadly weapons at his neck. Emrys sat at the end of the bed, staring at him. It was not with the same intensity as he had back in Ismere or those first weeks in Camelot, though Mordred was sure Emrys' mistrust had never faded. It was more like he was only half aware that he was staring, as if he were lost in his own thoughts, on tenterhooks waiting to see how this would play out.

"Guards," Arthur finally announced, his authority unquestionable even as he knelt in his night clothes. "Take Mordred to his quarters and guard the door. He is not to leave until I'm ready to speak with him."

"His quarters?" Emrys blurted, sitting straight. "Why not the dungeons?"

As he helped the Queen off the bed, Arthur shot Emrys the kind of look he reserved specifically for him.

"If he has saved the Queen from a threat none of us foresaw, then he has earned fair treatment, Merlin. We'll investigate the matter later." His voice rose to address the room at large. "None of what just happened is to leave this room."

The knights that flanked Mordred stepped aside and allowed the guards to take him. When he glanced back, he saw Merlin in the same position: perched at the end of the bed looking to all the world like he wanted to leap up, but was afraid, and remained on his perch like a bird that couldn't fly. Or more fittingly, a bird who kept his own wings carefully clipped.

As Mordred was ushered through the threshold, he opened a connection in his mind that he had kept closed for years.

_You should have more faith in your king, Emrys._

The cool air touched his back as his cloak flapped behind him.

It was not only relief that accompanied Mordred down the corridor, but gratification. His faith in his king was justified. Merlin had been so afraid for so long that he couldn't see the truth: under the right circumstances, Arthur could accept magic. He could make the delicate distinctions between his father's views and the reality, and see that it was loyalty that counted, not the weapon wielded. Under the right circumstances, he could learn to accept Mordred's magic as he accepted Mordred himself. Mordred could reach Arthur in a way Merlin couldn't, could inch his way closer to Arthur's most trusted, most respected inner circle. 

Exactly where he wanted to be.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Circle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/576319) by [jelazakazone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelazakazone/pseuds/jelazakazone)




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